Why are you crying?
String them together.
Put those together.
A time I’d not considered possible.
A title I’d never own.
I won the Buffalo Marathon in a time of 2:48:40
A statement I’d never utter.
There are countless ways I could write about this experience. I could write about what I did the day before (not much). I could write about my food (the usual). I could write about how my body felt (meh).
All these things were crucial yet so disconnected from my story.
I choose to write about the race, then thank all the people who I owe it to.
The gun went off, I settled into pace. I clicked off a 6:36 first mile, weaving through people and finding my stride.
A bit too slow, but it was uphill, see how going a bit faster here feels.
The second mile, downhill mostly was 6:11.
Ok, slow it a bit, but this effort feels right. Remember your training. Feel it.
I lost track of exact splits after the first couple miles, checking them just to make sure the effort matched the pace. 6:30s was the goal.
The early miles flew by. I was running with people, half marathoners, which gave me a sense of camaraderie. I run races alone. Having people with me, sucking it up with me, felt good.
I didn’t practice nutrition much during training, so I did what I knew. I started with Gatorade every two miles, but it wasn’t sitting well. I switched to Gu at mile 9 and took one there and at mile 15. I also drank water. This worked, so that’s what I’ll do next time.
After I lost my friends at halfway, and I also started to get that “maybe I need to use the bathroom” feeling. Not terrible, but not something I’d like to worry about ideally.
The next few miles were a blur of aid stations and Delaware Park. Upon leaving the park on a gradual incline, I decided I should use the bathroom. The seconds I would lose were not worth soiling my shorts.
I found one at mile 22.
This could have been make or break. It ended up giving me a second wind. I only had 4 miles to the finish.
It was go time. I didn’t feel the hurt as much. Well, maybe I did, but it didn’t matter because I was already home. I knew my time had come.
The miles. The training. The suck. The winter.
My time was here.
I cried at the finish line. Reporters asked me, why are you crying?
I don’t know, was my response. I just don’t know.